


So Weep 'Til You Drown (Or Until You Run Dry)

by actingwithportals



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Ghost doesn't kill the Dreamers before defeating Absolute Radiance, Herrah adopts Hollow, Herrah is best mom you cannot take this away from me, Herrah refers to Hollow as the Vessel, Hornet gets the comfort she needs, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I only recently realized it was possible to beat the game like this, Post-Embrace the Void Ending (Hollow Knight), Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: The bargain made between her and the Pale King should have taken the Beast's life, but by some unexpected twist of fate she finds herself waking to a world freed of the Infection. But that isn't the only miracle she's faced with upon her return from the Dream.A reunion with one child was almost more than she could bear, but being reunited with a second was something entirely unexpected.(Bad Things Happen Bingo fill 3: Cry Into Chest)
Relationships: Herrah the Beast & Hornet (Hollow Knight), Herrah the Beast & The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722943
Comments: 35
Kudos: 271





	So Weep 'Til You Drown (Or Until You Run Dry)

**Author's Note:**

> This fill ended up being kind of a sequel to my last fill, Spare A Glance For Words Unspoken? In the ending notes of that I teased an alternate ending where Herrah just takes Hollow and Hornet and runs, and though this technically isn't that, it is some sweet sweet Herrah being a Mom we all want to see more of in the world.
> 
> Title comes from the song Run Dry by Caspian
> 
> I hope this suffices for the lack of that AU \o/

The Queen of Deepnest had lived to see many impossible things in her reign, but waking up from the Dream wasn’t one she would ever have expected.

She had resigned herself to this fate long ago, made peace with the life she’d willingly chosen to cut short in a desperate attempt to save those most dear. That path had even blessed her with a thing more precious than all the world could dare to offer. If that precious thing could be granted a life in which it could grow, there was nothing Herrah wouldn’t do to see it done.

Eternal sleep meant her daughter could live awake, and to ensure that hope be fulfilled she would gladly slumber for a thousand ages. That had been the bargain made for her life; that had been her willing choice.

The Beast’s waking was decidedly not included in that bargain.

It had been a shock, at first. A concern second. But as the rest of the world unfolded before her, it became clear that her awakening was not the result of some failing in the Pale King’s plan.

So, he hadn’t been entirely useless, she supposed.

It would be days before the entire explanation became clear. For now, her people – ravaged yet alive – demanded her full attention. Between herself, her dear Midwife (who had blessedly survived), a small handful of Devout, and a lone Weaver, picking up the pieces of her Nest did not seem such an impossible task.

There, of course though, had been one vital piece missing.

The Weaver had been more than willing to search the whole of Deepnest – Hallownest even, if it came to it – to find that which was lost. Herrah would have gone herself, fully intended to, actually, if not for her Midwife reminding her of the duty she held to her people. After so long plagued by that cursed Light, they needed a guiding hand in the dark. She could not abandon them, not even for a moment.

The Weaver was sent, and the Beast was left to wait.

Nearly a week had passed before any word came. When the Weaver finally stumbled back into the Den, nearly breathless, she could hardly produce a few fragmented sentences without tripping over herself in her haste to explain her findings.

That lost, precious thing, had been found.

Her daughter – her dearest little spiderling – was in Hallownest, kept there with a matter so important that even a fervent summons from home could not be immediately answered. The Weaver relayed that she had promised another week; only once whatever duty kept her away had been seen to would she return.

This, Herrah could grant.

And so the week passed, and in such time Deepnest had slowly begun to come back to life. There was still much to be done, however; funerals to hold, homes to rebuild, injured to heal. Deepnest might have been strong, but it would take time before they were fully recovered from the effects of the Infection.

Though the needs of her people kept her well occupied, time still seemed to march slowly on as Herrah awaited that promised day. And when it finally came, that list of impossible things suddenly had new reason to expand.

Her daughter, who had grown into a beautiful young spider, hadn’t returned home alone.

The duty that she had relayed to the Weaver had less to do with Hallownest itself, and more to do with something far more personal, it would seem. That Vessel, her daughter’s precious older sibling, had somehow been spared by the Old Light’s rage, but it appeared only just. It was days before any amount of travel would have been possible, so her daughter said, and even longer to make the trek from the Crossroads back to the Distant Village. She assured that if it had been in any way possible for her to return sooner, she would have.

There was no world in which Herrah could possibly begrudge her daughter this.

Though she would have liked their reunion to have gone differently, to have embraced her and told her all of the things she had regretted never saying before, the words that wanted so desperately to be spoken could not yet be touched. Her daughter had made it home whole and relatively well, but the same could not be said for the sibling she brought with her. The journey had taken its toll upon them, and the most immediate need at that time was ensuring they received the attention her daughter had not been able to provide for them on her own.

What a waste her efforts would have been for her sibling to die of their wounds and exhaustion on the doorstep of a long-awaited respite, after all.

By the time the Vessel had been seen to, and her daughter assured of their stability, the day had nearly reached its end. Herrah herself did not feel tired by the day’s tolls – she had spent more than enough time asleep for her liking – but she was certain her daughter would have felt the weariness of her journey by then.

She, of course, proved to be more stubbornly resilient than that.

“There are things we must discuss,” she said, standing so tall and with her mask held high despite the lateness of the hour. How much she had grown during Herrah’s slumber. How much Herrah had missed.

“There are,” she agreed. “Much has transpired since we last spoke, Child.”

“Hornet,” her daughter corrected. “My name is Hornet.”

And that proclamation alone spoke years.

Herrah nodded. “Hornet,” she echoed. “I had hoped Queen Vespa would name you in my stead.”

“It was an honorable gift,” her daughter – Hornet – said. “I am proud to bear it.”

“It suits you,” Herrah agreed, for it did. Her daughter had always been so full of life, so invigorated and ready to face any challenge she felt was worthy of her conquer. A Hive name fit well, and the one who had granted it was more than sufficient at fulfilling that task. “And what has become of that Hive which named you?”

For the briefest of moments, Hornet seemed to falter. Herrah imagined that if it had been anyone but her, the hesitation would have gone entirely unnoticed. But no one knew her daughter better than she – or at least, that had once been true.

“The Hive still stands,” Hornet began. “But the Queen has long since passed. You have missed much during your sleep, Mother.”

She shouldn’t be surprised. The world had been brought to its knees, if the state of her domain alone were any indicator. Though she had hoped Vespa would have endured, if so that she would be blessed with such a friend for the years ahead.

But her daughter stood tall before her; she had already received more blessings than she would have dared counted on.

“So it seems,” she hummed. It would be early morning hours before long; the most reasonable action would be to send her daughter to bed and worry about the implications of the world when the day was anew. But the Den was quiet, and in that moment, she had no obligations but to that of her child. Reason be damned, she would not waste this moment.

“Perhaps you could fill me in on everything I have missed while in the Dream,” Herrah suggested, fervent hope her request would be answered.

“The hour is late, and I have traveled far,” Hornet responded, and whatever weariness she kept so well hidden peeked out the smallest bit. “But I will relay what is most important.”

That would suffice, Herrah thought.

The Old Light had been vanquished, that much was already clear. What Herrah did not expect, however, was to hear Hornet’s speculations as to the how of the matter. Though she insisted she could not be certain, her firm belief was that the Radiance had been destroyed by a little ghost. A sibling, she had clarified. One who had somehow emerged from that cursed birthplace and proven themself of strong mind and will. But that little ghost had not challenged the Light in the way Hornet had anticipated, and thus the validity of her claim could not be proven. But she believed nonetheless, with her whole heart.

That would be good enough for Herrah. For now.

The whereabouts of that ghost now were unknown, and before Herrah could question further, Hornet had already begun to move on from the matter. Perhaps, for whatever reason, it was not something she wished to touch on so heavily this night.

Hallownest had died long ago, along with its Monarch. The White Palace seemed to have disappeared entirely, taking with it the entirety of its court. The only members whom her daughter had evidence of surviving were the White Lady – hidden away in her gardens – and one of the five Great Knights, burrowed deep beneath the City. Hornet recounted having come across Hallownest bugs along the road to home, but seemingly aside from the Mantises, no part of the once Eternal Kingdom had gone untouched by the Infection.

As much as Herrah would have liked to laugh at their fate, she could not find any mirth in it. Her own people had not been spared, either.

“It has been well over an age since you’ve slept, Mother,” Hornet concluded. “The world is not what it used to be.”

“And yet you survived it,” Herrah remarked, undeniable pride in her words. “You’ve stood tall where others have fallen.”

“Tall I may stand, but I watched all of those others as they fell,” Hornet bit out, and for the first time since returning home she finally put her emotions on display. “I watched and I protected, and I have succeeded and failed, and I did all of this for years alone. Do not look upon me with pride, for the things I’ve had to do in those years were shameful.”

For a moment neither spoke; the room hushed but for the quick breath Hornet took before continuing on.

“I will not waste time on regret for the decisions I’ve made, but they were still all made on my own.” She looked up to face Herrah fully, and though her stature had shown growth she was still so small in comparison to herself. Somehow, she looked even smaller now. “I watched the world slowly perish while my father fled in his shame and you _slept_. No one was left to preserve your kingdoms. I had to make do alone. You left me _alone_.”

There were many things that Herrah thought shameful. Cowardice, injustice, deceit. None of these things reflected the spider that stood before her, not even as the first tears began to trickle down her mask. She had missed much, far too much, but she would never miss the fact that her daughter was so, unarguably strong.

The dying world had not taken that from her.

There were words she wished to say, assurances she desired so greatly to give, but in that moment Herrah wanted nothing more than to simply hold her daughter, and let whatever exhaustion that had overtaken her all these years begin to ebb away with the comfort of a familiar embrace. And when she reached out her arms, Hornet did not pull away, falling instead against her as if the weight of the world had finally become too much to bear. She wept, and wept, and Herrah would be lying if she were to deny that her own tears did not fall as well.

“I’ve missed you, Mother,” Hornet’s voice trembled, muffled against her chest and choked with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I have missed you as well, my child,” she echoed, rubbing soothing circles against her daughter’s back. “My precious Hornet.”

It was some time before that night reached its end.

* * *

Days passed, and steadily Deepnest began to heal.

Her people had been scarred, but they were wounds that could be treated with time. Though many had been lost to the Infection, each day more were recovered from the dark tunnels east of the Distant Village. The beasts would live on, as they always had, and Herrah would not rest until she saw them returned to their former glory.

But not all things seemed to heal so easily.

Hornet had returned home several days ago, and though she had quickly recovered from the exhaustion of her travels, the sibling she had brought home with her did not share in that haste.

It would be some time before the Vessel’s injuries would fully heal, that much Herrah expected. If what her daughter had told her about their state upon exiting the Temple was true (for she had no reason to believe otherwise) it was a miracle on its own that the Vessel were alive at all. Considering that fact, they seemed to be enduring their physical ailments better than might otherwise be expected.

Void truly was more resilient than Herrah had given it credit.

What was more worrisome than the physical injuries they sustained, however, was the internal damage that no amount of Soul would be able to heal. Herrah knew well how the Vessel had been raised, what had been expected of them throughout their life, and add that to what they surely had to endure against a rageful god for uncountable years it was no surprise that their mind would be in disrepair.

But that knowledge didn’t make their empty stare any less unnerving.

The Pale King would have been a fool if he had never noticed, but his Vessel wasn’t as hollow as he would have liked. Herrah had always been able to see that. Though they had made a valiant effort to appear stoic and unaffected, she couldn’t miss the faint way their shoulders would straighten, and their steps would be lighter any time she brought Hornet to visit the Palace. She had keenly watched as they carefully indulged her daughter’s every whim, whether it be a request to be held, an order to participate in some elaborate game of her creation, or simply to inspect whatever drawing or contraption she had assembled that day.

They were absolutely enamored by their younger sister, and who could blame them?

But it wasn’t just Hornet who could get a reaction out of them. Though they hid it well, Herrah had also noted the way the Vessel would brighten in the presence of the Pale King. It was either a miracle, foolishness, or willful ignorance that the King himself had never noticed – perhaps even a combination of the three. But whatever the case, that child had not proven themself worthy of the Pale King’s choosing out of some false concept of purity. They had worked hard to make their father proud.

And that had been the root of their failure, hadn’t it?

Part of Herrah couldn’t help but wonder just how much that seed of desire had been nurtured by her own first meeting with the Vessel. It had also been the first meeting between them and their sister, the day she had introduced her sire to the child. She had made a point that day to speak with the Vessel for a moment alone. After all, if she were going to give her life to help ensure their protection for the good of all bugs and beasts alike – and if this progeny of the Pale King’s did indeed share blood with her precious daughter – then she was going to establish some form of connection without the influence of an audience.

She had expected polite detachment, but one look at how the Vessel responded to the child she held in her arms – however masked they might have made their reaction – was enough to send that expectation spiraling into something dangerously fond.

“I do not greet you out of an obligation of duty or appropriate niceties,” she had told them. “Ours is a matter of far more importance. Though you are not of my kind, you share blood with what is most precious to me. And what is hers, I too claim as mine.”

That had elicited the closest approximation to a genuine expression she had seen the Vessel present. And for their sake, she had intended to carry that response to her grave.

Perhaps that, too, had damned them.

The point of the matter, Herrah had long since learned the tells of the Vessel’s demeanor, no matter how thoroughly they attempted to make it appear blank. She had learned to read what thoughts might have existed behind that fathomless stare. And the look that had taken residence upon their mask of late was not within their normal boundaries of flatness.

They had closed themself off and would not be easily pried open again.

Hornet had tried, of course. She had hardly left their side the first few nights since returning to the Den, and even now she insisted upon sitting with them for hours still, not that anyone would dare deny her this. She had seemingly attempted everything, from simple conversations to more pointed questions. And yet the Vessel would give no form of response. They would obey commands, whether it be to move a certain way when having their bandages changed or to focus Soul for healing when the appropriate amount had been able to be provided for them, but if they were otherwise unobligated, they remained as a statue.

Not even when Hornet had resorted to pleading did they even move to look her way. That had been the most concerning to Herrah of all.

She hadn’t intended to get directly involved. Hornet had seemed to take the matter very personally, and if she were not asked to interfere, she would not overstep onto what responsibility her daughter had chosen to bear. But she knew if things continued in this manner the situation would soon be untenable, and after everything that Hornet had already endured, Herrah could not allow her to face further heartaches alone.

So when she awoke in the early morning hours to the sound of Hornet fussing in the room down the hall where the Vessel now stayed, she readied herself to finally personally see to the situation.

Aside from the noises that woke her, the Den was quiet. The Devout who slept below would hopefully all be slumbering peacefully at this hour, and those who remained awake as guard would still be diligent in their duty. But even in the quiet Hornet would not hear her approach; skilled though she was, an occupied hunter would not be so easily alerted to the footsteps of the Beast.

And upon entering that room, it became apparent that ‘ _occupied’_ was hardly the full of it.

Hornet was knelt on the floor before the arrangement of silks and cushions that constituted a bed, her sibling hunched over atop them in a seated position that could not be considered comfortable by any standards, yet they appeared to have no intentions of moving. Hornet had been in the process of draping one of the woven blankets over their shoulders, and Herrah could now see that they were subtly trembling.

“If you do not uncurl yourself you are going to reopen your wounds from strain,” Hornet was scolding them. “At least try to lie down once again.”

The Vessel made no moves to respond, resolutely holding their stance.

Hornet sighed, and the exhaustion behind it pricked uncomfortably at Herrah’s chitin. She still seemed too young to feel in a way that would elicit such a noise. How much had she been forced to grow beyond her age all these years?

“Hollow,” she began, sounding exasperated, but whatever thought had accompanied that word was lost behind her shaking her head. “Never mind. At least stretch out your legs; you’re going to go stiff at this rate.”

Hollow. Yes, that was the name her daughter had given the Vessel, rather put off by the idea that her dear older sibling hadn’t been gifted one despite their age. The Pale King had of course been adamant that her antics not be allowed to continue, but as with most things Hornet wanted, Herrah made no attempts to deny her. If a simple name could unravel the entirety of the Pale King’s efforts, well, then his plan had been doomed to fail from the start.

Now with the benefit of hindsight, it seemed that was likely true.

The recollection softened something in Herrah’s posture, and the small sound of her shifting legs did not go unnoticed. Hornet’s gaze quickly turned back to face her, her own posture tensing for a moment before her eyes focused on who specifically had intruded upon this scene.

“My apologies,” she said, relaxing somewhat. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“I doubt I will ever find reason to complain about being awoken after spending so much time asleep,” Herrah scoffed before evening her expression into something warmer. “And what is it that wakes you at this hour?”

At the question, Hornet’s attention returned to her sibling, who had still declined to move from their frigid position. Between the faint shaking of their limbs and the way their hand had at some point begun clutching tightly at the blanket draped around them, the truth of the situation started to become clear.

Ah, so that was it, then.

“I believe something startled them,” Hornet explained slowly, as if she were concerned about getting part of her claim wrong. “Based on the sound that woke me, I would guess they must have kicked the wall.”

If the Vessel could have curled themself further inwards than they were already, then that is exactly what they did.

Herrah hummed in understanding. “A nightmare, then.”

Perhaps the allusion of the word was not a very helpful choice, for if the Vessel’s shaking had been subtle before, it was now becoming something distinctly more pronounced.

“Nightmares belong to a different domain than that of dreams,” she amended. “They are nothing to fear.”

Of course, hearing an assurance and being relieved by it were two entirely separate things. Whatever fear had already been implanted in their mind had clearly taken root, and her clarification did not seem to bring the slightest amount of peace.

“It’s alright, Hollow,” Hornet soothed, stroking a hand against the blanket on the Vessel’s uninjured side. “Whatever it was, it was not real. You’re awake now, you’re safe.”

That assurance very possibly wasn’t entirely correct; the chances were that whatever nightmare had plagued them had at one time been something intensely real, but Herrah was not going to correct her daughter at this time.

“Hornet,” she settled for instead. “There should still be some jars of honey from the Hive in the kitchen. Something sweet would likely do them good; would you go and fetch one?”

Hornet glanced back at her for a moment, her expression somewhat confused before returning her attention to her sibling, softly patting their shoulder, and rising to her feet. “I will be back in a moment, then,” she told them quietly, and swiftly ducked out of the room.

The Den was once again silent.

For a moment, Herrah did nothing but simply stand in the room’s entryway and watch; the Vessel had not responded to Hornet’s exit, and aside from their reaction to her earlier statement had otherwise not acknowledged Herrah’s presence at all. Their attention instead seemed to be held by some inconsequential spot on the floor in front of them, though with the way their hand slowly clenched and unclenched around the edge of the blanket, she doubted what they were physically seeing before them held much of their interest.

She finally decided to step into the room proper, and when that still did not garner a reaction out of them, she moved to stand more directly in front of them.

“You do not sleep well,” she noted, more statement than question.

The Vessel did not look up, but their grip on the blanket tightened for a moment.

Herrah’s stature had always been one of considerable height; there were few she did not tower over. The Vessel, for as long as she knew them at least, had always been one of those few. But sitting before her, their mask lowered as they curled in on themself, they appeared far too small.

It would simply not do.

Like she had seen her daughter doing only a moment ago, Herrah knelt before them, placing a gentle claw on their uninjured shoulder. They were still faintly shaking, but the contact unfortunately seemed to make them fully jolt, if only once. Still, she held her position firm, hoping the contact could at least provide them something for which to ground themself.

“Those memories still plague you,” she continued. “It is unlikely that will cease anytime soon.”

The Vessel did not respond, but their shaking persisted.

“Hornet suspects as much, and that causes her a great deal of worry,” Herrah explained. “As does much when it comes to your wellbeing. Being worried over is not something you would be used to, I imagine.”

Still no response, but Herrah was not deterred.

“That is in part the reason for your stillness, yes? You have outlived your duty and no longer know what is expected of you, nor do you know what to do with those lack of expectations.”

The Vessel remained still.

“If I have assumed right, I must admit that I share in your confusion. I too am still coming to terms with being granted a life after I’ve long since resigned myself to a Dream from which I was told I would never wake. What are we to do with lives we’ve prepared so long for not having?”

No response. Herrah pressed on.

“I will not speak for you,” she said. “But as for myself, I will use this gift granted to me to take advantage of sharing a life with all of those I hold dear that I had thought I would never see again. Your sister, my daughter, being chief among them. To see her grown, and the chance for more years with her is a blessing I will not dare to waste. Not when I know that so many others both dear and unknown to me were not granted such an opportunity. I know that I must cherish this gift; that is what I have decided to do.”

The Vessel still did not look to her, but their trembling seemed to have subsided a little.

“I count being reunited with my daughter my greatest blessing, but it is not the only one I will acknowledge,” Herrah continued, encouraged by their apparent calming state. “It is of equal relief to see you released from that prison, not only to alleviate my own shame in taking part in your Sealing, but also as the gift it is to Hornet.”

The hand that had been clenched so tightly to the blanket they held subtly relaxed as their gaze lifted ever-so-slightly upwards. Whether it out of interest in her words or confusion at them, Herrah took this as a good sign to continue.

“But I will add that it is not only for my daughter’s sake or that of my shame that gladdens me to see you returned to us,” she said. “I told you once before that what is my daughter’s is mine as well to claim, and it brings me no small amount of joy to finally welcome you home.”

However much their trembling had earlier subsided now returned doubly, but for the first time since the Dream they fully met her gaze.

Ah, there were those expressions Herrah remembered so well.

“If you can manage, do not continue to worry us so,” she said, and hoped that her tone conveyed to them her concern without order attached. “You have suffered alone for far too long, dear one; please do not feel you must pain yourself further. I do not wish to see more of my loved ones bear such hurt.”

Whatever force held them to stillness and demanded they continue to wear their façade of detachment, finally seemed to crack under the weight they’d carried for so long.

The Pure Vessel fell into Herrah’s arms and let themself cry.

They were silent – the Pale King’s influence had made sure of that – but they shook with as much fervor as a child wracked by sobs, and if the dampness Herrah could feel spreading along her hood were any indication, there were most certainly tears. Ages might have passed since she had last been needed to hold a weeping child, but the instinct was one that did not leave a mother so easily. She wrapped her arms around the Vessel’s back and held them, prepared to perform this comfort for as long as it would be wanted.

Herrah bitterly doubted they had ever been held before.

At some point Hornet had returned, and her near panic at the sight of her sibling crying steadily into her mother’s chest had for a moment made the Vessel stiffen in a way that caused Herrah to fear they might return to their stillness instead. But they did not relent, eventually relaxing once again into her embrace as she attempted to sooth their nerves with rubbing circles along their back. And once Hornet had collected herself, she joined them at her sibling’s side, resting her mask against their back and carefully wrapping her arms around their torso as much as she was able.

They did not move for a long time, and when the moment came that the Vessel released their vice grip on the blanket in lieu for clinging to Herrah instead, she did not chastise them for their tight hold.

They would be given plenty of opportunities to truly learn how to hug in the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Herrah mom hugs, Herrah mom hugs, Herrah mom-
> 
> I originally planned for this fill to be from Hollow's POV since it is technically a sequel to the last, but I realized that I really wanted to see Herrah's perspective on this and more closely see what exactly she feels towards Hollow. And I also couldn't have a Herrah and Hornet reunion without focusing on that for them. Hornet needs mamma hugs too.
> 
> Some notes: 1 Little Ghost is alive and well, but they are off doing Lord of Shades things and hasn't yet gotten around to reuniting with their friends and family (being the god of gods is a lot to get used to). 2 The reason Hornet took so long to come back with the honey is because she had An Adventure (best not to ask).
> 
> Please let me know what you thought; comments help keep me alive ;w;


End file.
